


A Distant Pull

by unsettled



Category: Body of Lies (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you sure?" Hani asks, and the utter wrongness of it draws Roger's eyes to Hani's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Distant Pull

**Author's Note:**

> Er. My brain said 'yay comfort fic!', and then demanded to know when _Roger_ would have a chance to comfort Hani. So here you go, brain.

Roger's there when Hani gets the call.

He knows it's Marwan on the other line, because Hani's voice warms fractionally from the chilled 'Hello' that he always answers with. Marwan shouldn't be calling yet – Hani had just sent him to get some answers, there hasn't been enough time…

"Are you sure?" Hani asks, and the utter wrongness of it draws Roger's eyes to Hani's face. The Hani would ever ask such a question of Marwan is a twist in Roger's worldview.

Hani's face is flat, empty – not the calm face he wears for diplomacy, that always has a hint of humor lurking underneath; nor the cold face the telegraphs his anger as clearly as any furious expression. It's as though he's forgotten how to move the muscles of his body, as if they've forgotten they can move without Hani's permission.

Roger waits for an explanation.

When Hani sets the phone back in the cradle, his hand lingers, uncertain, and that shakes Roger. Something's happened, something _bad_.

"They've found Hammad," Hani says, blankly. "Or at least, parts of him."

 _Hammad_. Who was nearly as close as Marwan to Hani, who was one of the few people Hani smiled at without a mocking edge, who'd cooked them dinner three weeks ago and laughed at the way Roger drank wine and smirked, amused and indulging, when Hani curled his fingers around Roger's wrist. It hits him, deep in the gut, like a blow, and he can't seem to catch a breath. _Hammad_.

He turns his face to Hani, the world just hazed enough at the edges that he knows his eyes are wet. Hani's not looking at him, not looking at anything, his gaze fixed on some distant past, perhaps, everything about him too still, too hard, too collected. Roger knows Hani won't allow himself tears; not here, not later, not ever, and never mind that Hammad deserves a few. Never mind that Hani is already too full of them.

Roger reaches out and touches his fingers to the back of Hani's hand where it lies in the table, listless. He can't find words for anything he might say, _I'm sorry_ and _Hani_ and stupid, pointless platitudes ripped straight from Ed stuck behind his teeth. There are no words, so he offers no words; only settles his palm atop Hani's hand, covering the slight, subtle shake of it.

After a moment, Hani turns his hand palm up, and their fingertips meet for a second before Hani's fingers slide between Roger's and grip him, a little too hard.


End file.
